Everyone has watched ****,
It’s like peeing in the shower;
Everyone has done it,
Yet it’s too wildly embarrassing
For anyone to admit it.

The yearn for the bird;
Letting the wind lead the skies.
A life of fluctuating flows;
A life I despise.

I sit still every day,
Well I mean my mind does,
Anticipating for things
that may not ever come.

My social anxiety has
Twisted it’s venomous
Thorned rose around my
Otherwise unsullied mind,
Poisoning it, cursing it,
Making it unable to communicate,
Having me draw immense suffering
From the excruciation of socialization.
But yet it gives me intensified
deprivation of such activities.

Sometimes I wait for what will never come,
And with each passing minute,
The thorns grow larger as well as sharper,
Getting a larger hold on my ****** up mind.

Dawning on me
Like a red-stringed melody,
The sunrise of a new year
Beckoning new light
Into our lives.

Incineration of the mind,
Quenching the white coals
Of the overheated fuel.

Gazing into this furnace,
Which radiates more
Than the distant sun.

Inflammation on touch,
Festering blisters crowd
My already damaged hand.

Before contact is made,
The hand will reel away.
Only the foolish dive in,
Because the water
Is not fine.

Scorching the clouds
Like a fuming inferno,
Only to be smothered
Without a moment to breathe.

Highlighting the bleak gray
With layerings of radiant white.

The purest form of energy;
Destroying all it touches directly.

Have you fallen again?
Through the world of dreams
And into the endless expanse?

Lifeless yet living,
I ponder your loving existence.

The silent voice
fades to a whisper.
Where have you gone,
My sister?

The tide proceeds to escape the shore,
Receding like a quelled rebellion.
Now a pair of lonely eyes
Becomes the sole true witness
Of this snapshot of life.

I look up at it,
amazed that such a
...
thing
...
can exist
in parallel with me.

But it’s out of reach,
leagues above my head.

I see several people up there,
soaring the endless expanse.

Their words
spun like needle and thread,
Create a deep rooted motion.
The vibration moves the air,
encompassing them;
Creating them their own shell.
With the deft utilization of the vibration,
they spin and weave the clouds
With the same capacity
as their masterfully controlled words.
Weaving soft feathery wings
from the endless clouds,
they stitch them immaculately;
without a trace of fault.

I wish that one day,
I could be like those brilliant minds,
Soaring the endless expanse so effortlessly;
Controlling words with a masterful mind
And making such a deep, powerful movement.
Enough to shake the most iron-willed,
Buy warming their cool steel core.

But as of now,
I am landlocked.
I am okay with this.

I want to connect with the earth,
perpendicular to my existence
before I leave for the sky,
the existence parallel to mine.

Their words consume me,
Telling me silent lies.
But you can only see the light
Which I cast on your eyes.

When will you see right through me,
And save me from this madness?
I’m too far gone to save myself.

Within shining walls,
He lies on opulence.
If only time was kind enough
To let him lie forever.

In the end,
He has to stand.
In the end,
Time beckons forgetfulness.

Let the cold consume me,
Bring me farther into darkness,
And run my soul through
With two daggers of ice.
Drive my fingers numb
With its glacial insanity.
Turn me inside out,
Become my calamity.

Lock me in ice,
Freeze me beyond my bones.
Let me become a visceral tundra,
Devoid of all,
Leaving only a chilling silence to roam.

Crystalize my blood; make ruby shards.
Tear the skin with your glacial flames.
Seize a still beating heart with Death’s arctic claws,
Puncture it with five frosting talons,
to diminish the simmering heat that remains.

If you’re going to ice my heart:
Spare no wrath, tear me right apart.

Sliding through salty waters,
Spray hitting my face
Each time I dip the paddle
Into the murky creek.

it’s so serene,
No people,
No yelling,
No sirens,
Just me and the geese,
And the wind.

Even though I’m thinking
About my next move,
You’re still there,
Lying, beautiful,
In the back of my mind.

Sometimes I wonder
If I’ve gone too far.
Stepped out of my place,
Reached up that extra inch,
Or ran that extra mile.

Sometimes I have,
But usually,
It just becomes a wonderful conversation starter.

Slipping on the ice,
And crashing through the glass.

Floating shards
Hovering in prismatic wonder,
Lighting my darkened mind
Like the thousand stars
Guiding me to
My long lost dreams.

Laying newfound gemstones
Upon the fields of springtime citrus,
The sun rises once again.

We are here to witness
As the earth’s moonlight visage
Is burned away by the rising fire,
Leaving us free to start anew.

The lingering mist;
Slowly ruptured by daybreak,
Uncovers my fears.

I’m so stupid
To be attached
To someone.

They’ll wave me off
Like they would
For an arachnid
Such as I.

Into all of eternity,
Over the despairing
Expanse of Ginnungagap,
Across the Bifrost rainbow,
Through the golden fields
Of the prosperous Fólkvangr,
And into the trunk of Yggdrasil,
Life forever moves through the nine worlds,
Binding us all together.

The starlight on my ceiling
And the silence in the air
Echoes like an untouched ocean,
quivering in absolute stagnation.

The wings of an angel,
The kiss of loneliness.
Life’s palpitating heartbeat
Brings Anxiety to its knees.

Drifting into an opal iridescence,
my subtle starlight turns to faded dreams.
The wistful echoes of my ocean
Turn like the amber gears in a sunset clocktower.
A timeless, transient frame becomes our reference,
and our stardust turns to amber shards once more.

Opening the door,
Even just once,
Unlocks the possibility
Of a second occurrence.
Some doors are better
Left to be unleft ajar.

Like fluttering steel,
I moved toward
The windward,
Hoping to find
The stem of life,
And
The roots of death.

The stars guide
My fluttering steel,
Showing me the wonder
Of each precious sunrise,
And each fleeting sunset.
I’m deathly afraid
of these ocean nights
But the little starlights
Infuse my scampering soul
with unyielding courage,
Making my lonesome night
A sail with company,
And a hope-filled light.

Each fleeting day,
And each dragging night,
The water sweeps,
As if moved
By the deft stroke of a sword,
Or the silent lance’s jab.

False whispers
Sounding alarms,
Poisoning the will;
Drowning the ill.

Pulling you down
Just to push you up,
And burrow inside you,
To be a viciously vicarious
Vile remnant
Of whats long gone.

At time’s end
We stand before the leveling blade,
And whisper our sins
Towards the crimson shade,
And are put to rest
Within the silent glade.

Why is it always others
That find requited love?

And why do I
Still enjoy listening to their boasting?

The damp world, slowly yet ardently wiping itself off
from the previous evening’s unannounced showers,
Blew a feathery breeze, kissing my skin with ghostly lips.

As the humid summer days
Sift into the crisp autumn nights,
Like the shimmering sands
Of a young hourglass,
She longs to once again
Feel the raging warmth
Of the midsummer sun.

Life makes us bitter,
But with wings a flutter,
We soar.

Above the teardrops
Sitting like morning dew
In the naked eyes
Of our beholder;
We stay afloat,
And delightfully aglow.

The silence was inevitable, however, the light she shone soon became their harmony.

Springing out of the fire with an unrivaled exuberance,
They spiral and change direction,
As if they are following their own
Delightfully deviating initiative.

They help the flaming torrent in its calming rapid beauty.
The emanating orange dots twists around the pillar.
The sparks die off, but new ones rise up in bursts.
It is a curiously renewing spectacle.

When one log falls,
Numerous fireflies fling out of the flames,
Spiraling up into the sky with an orange afterglow.
Sadly, it dies off as quickly as it was brought to life.

The sparks are a firefly;
Rather quick to die,
But beautiful to attract our gaze,
Even though the deepest haze.

The king was but livestock,
given to the next in line.
His death was a tragedy,
but another arose from it.
chaos uprooted justice,
and bit by corrupted bit,
the monarch transformed.

A demon came from the monarch,
just as a saint had come from the king.
However, since the king was ill livestock,
the monarch would drop like a rock.

Hail Macduff!
Hail the one who hath slain
a most fearsome demon!

Without constraint,
Without boundaries,
Emotion persists
Through the trials of time.

Don’t go
You’re leaving me
To the endless flow.
You preach destruction,
But the sands of time still stand,
a subtly worse construction.

I fall asleep to the spirit’s melody;
Drifting along iridescent shores,
Welcoming all that passes before it.
An unforgiving chokehold sets in
And i am rendered unable to escape.
The silence of a bed;
The welcome of the world of dreams.

A cold wind
Greets my toes,
And the setting sun
Waves an orange goodbye.

Yet the moon
Has never felt so far away,
And the stars dim
From this distance.

At a vexing infernal ball,
The molten ash lights up
An intricate obsidian hall.

The devil walked up to me
Offered a withering lily,
And asked for my decaying hand.

So I waltzed with the devil
Graceful fluid movements,
Like the blood leaking
From my long closed wounds.

Hand in decaying hand,
Ashen footprint by ashen footprint,
We drift further into our moment,
Dancing at the depths of our hell.

The dance will end in its own time.
The inevitable death of the
Minor notes of deprivation draw closer.
My heart starts syncing with the notes,
Tuning it's strings to the icy song in play.

As the ending major chords finish
Their prolonged hymn of fate,
The devil leans over my helpless body
And donates a kiss to my struggling lips,
Ending my life in its entirety.

Now a silent ballroom remains.
A silent ashen body lays stagnant,
And soon fades off into the dust
That decorates the ebony floor.

Two unscorched hands still lay,
But they are frail, and will soon decay.

I went to heaven once, a beautiful place I do say.
Found God in a palace overlooking an ocean bay.

I inquired him of all his actions and choices;
How he could've let death take away so many beautiful voices.

God gazed at me with a strange glint in his eyes.
He then chose another bad choice, but one devoid of lies.

God bestowed his divine knowledge upon me, but the words made me rather blue...
"I shoulda made a sandwich insteada makin' you."

Manic streams of sunlight fall,
Devouring the darkness below.
From one insanity to another,
A cover up for what’s lost.

You hide the truth inside the dream,
Yet you cover it up once found.
You fear the truth;
The endless pain
Because you can’t except it’s gone.

Why keep running, little one?
Your simple fun has just begun.

Silence calls for dusks final breath
As we say farewell to sight
And lay our bodies to rest.

Our minds, however,
Live nocturnal,
Like our souls—
Living, eternal.

Like a solitary tree in a silent plain
Awaiting the blight; the everlasting rain.
Life has come and gone;
The span of a second
With the grace of a swan
Like a shrouded mosaic
The mist reveals piece by piece;
A picture is formed
Of a concrete world,
Built on the fragile sands of time.

A shimmering thunderclap
Shines across a million seas.
I stand landlocked,
Left to count the endless leaves.

The golem’s silent lament
Leaves the lightning to grieve.
The execution of silence
Set to be, without reprieve.

You have an idea.
It pops into your mind
like an unannounced prince;
sudden and wild, but welcome.

The idea is used,
your head leaks code
onto the glowing screen.
Now the turning mind
grows weary.

Your mind's fatigue kills,
and you are so close to done...
but secretly,
you know it's a lie.

Debugging awaits your arrival.

The morning dawn
Begins to light a darkened sky,
Painting colors onto the black.
Like a how printing press makes stories,
The sky paints it’s morning glories.
A child watches this transformation
As it whisks away his trepidation.
A warm sunny light
Shines through these
Once gnarled trees,
And the child finds it
A fine replacement
To the icy blue moonlight
That pervaded the night.
Standing up after a long night,
The boy gingerly steps off the roof
And through his ajar window.
Within seconds of touching his bed,
He’s entrapped, from toe to head.
Slumber takes its firm hold
As punishment for the stunt he pulled.

Why have i been given so many chances?
So many sparks to fuel my fire?
At some point the sparks no longer help
And I’m covered in sparks and fire.

I’ve written poem after poem about her,
But I’ve never written one about him.
Is it because that ended before I
Started to write poetry once more?

I have no idea,
For I loved him just as dear,
As I love her.

Even though we may just be friends now,
I feel that he is still, by league after dissipating league,
The coolest person I have ever, and will ever meet.

Life flows on
Even if we are stagnant.
Through all it will travel,
Harboring our emotions
And our experiences.

Nothing lasts forever,
But anything good
Is worth trying to keep close.

I’m on fire.
It burns.
Hotter than magma,
Colder than dry ice.

The flames
Blue in nature,
Spread from my arms
To my torso.
My body is further
enveloped
In the liberating burn

Transcending all realms
Of known human sense,
I burn further and further
On.
As the fire spreads,
Farther and farther
Around
my blistering body.

My brain is finally hit
With the blue burning bliss.
A brilliant sight is seen,
A brilliant pain is felt.
I am fully enveloped,
And my room is now alight.

When I once again
come around to sanity,
I will notice my wrists,
Leaking my blue flame.

But it’s really just red water,
Giving me a release from the pain.